The tales of Lisbeth Salander, the 23 year old hacker girl, with the dark past and temperament, has been on a role for nearly a decade now. And heck, if you can snag Daniel Craig for the U.S. film, you're rolling in the big time, sweetie.
Brainy, Goth chic though only explains part of the appeal of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels. The franchise, widely identified as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy), has an additional cultural cache in the strange back story of Lisbeth's creator: Stieg Larsson.
The story of Larsson is full of irony. Never was one's story so ripe with the conditional clause: just before. It was indeed just before he became a bestselling novelist that Larsson was a notorious crusader against the menacing forces of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. Or, at least, so it was that he perceived his foes. And, in like manner, just before he became a bestselling author, generating a considerable personal fortune, he died. (You see, you're never appreciated while you're alive.)
This poses two questions to the inquiring mind. First, if he had lived, would he have remained quite as suspicious of wealth as a marker of evil? And, second, might the prior two facts be related?
Speculation on this latter question has led to some genuine lunacy. As a relatively young man, Larsson embraced Communism and anyone who pays any attention to such matters will be well aware that this creed has always been conspiratorial to its core. As a consequence, there's no astonishment at learning that for Larsson the 80s and 90s were devoted to unearthing the sinister secrets of rightist extremists and crypto-Aryan cabals.
The institutional legacy of all this was Larsson's establishment of a foundation and magazine, which he eventually edited, named Expo. These were pledged to exposing Swedish society's dark forces, its blackguards and villains. Now, don't mistake my tone here; it's not a matter of doubting the existence of such plotters and fantasists. It's just that fantasists are exactly what I think they are. They, no less than their arch enemies, like Larsson, exaggerate their relevance and influence all out of proportion to reality so as to make themselves and their titanic struggle seem of epic consequence. (I feel confident in saying that when barbarism next descends upon Western civilization, it won't be wearing jackboots and swastikas.)
And, no, the fact that Larsson died of "a heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht doesn't strike me as especially compelling evidence of anything. Now, if they'd waited until 2008 to execute this KGB-style hit, celebrating the...what...70 year anniversary? I mean, 70 years would be symbolic, right? Of something? I'm sure. You get my point?
Despite the silliness of all this conspiracy theory in the real world, though, in terms of entertainment marketing, Larsson's fascination with blackguard plotters paid off handsomely in providing the thematic and plot backdrop of his much read and film adapted novels. And, strange as it may seem to some of us, Larsson's brand of paranoia resonates just as well in America as in his native Sweden.
The plots and degeneracy of these blackguard extremists provide the fodder for super-girl sleuth Lisbeth Salander - she of the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and all buttressed by hacker skills that leave any bank or police department computer system naked before her will. Chummed up with her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist, evil has no chance. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe returning from the dead has been added to Lisbeth's impressive catalogue of super hero skills.
Okay, it is all a bit far-fetched. But whatever stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may ask of us, the protagonists and their virtuous mission makes for fun reading and viewing. And, hey, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
Brainy, Goth chic though only explains part of the appeal of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels. The franchise, widely identified as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy), has an additional cultural cache in the strange back story of Lisbeth's creator: Stieg Larsson.
The story of Larsson is full of irony. Never was one's story so ripe with the conditional clause: just before. It was indeed just before he became a bestselling novelist that Larsson was a notorious crusader against the menacing forces of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. Or, at least, so it was that he perceived his foes. And, in like manner, just before he became a bestselling author, generating a considerable personal fortune, he died. (You see, you're never appreciated while you're alive.)
This poses two questions to the inquiring mind. First, if he had lived, would he have remained quite as suspicious of wealth as a marker of evil? And, second, might the prior two facts be related?
Speculation on this latter question has led to some genuine lunacy. As a relatively young man, Larsson embraced Communism and anyone who pays any attention to such matters will be well aware that this creed has always been conspiratorial to its core. As a consequence, there's no astonishment at learning that for Larsson the 80s and 90s were devoted to unearthing the sinister secrets of rightist extremists and crypto-Aryan cabals.
The institutional legacy of all this was Larsson's establishment of a foundation and magazine, which he eventually edited, named Expo. These were pledged to exposing Swedish society's dark forces, its blackguards and villains. Now, don't mistake my tone here; it's not a matter of doubting the existence of such plotters and fantasists. It's just that fantasists are exactly what I think they are. They, no less than their arch enemies, like Larsson, exaggerate their relevance and influence all out of proportion to reality so as to make themselves and their titanic struggle seem of epic consequence. (I feel confident in saying that when barbarism next descends upon Western civilization, it won't be wearing jackboots and swastikas.)
And, no, the fact that Larsson died of "a heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht doesn't strike me as especially compelling evidence of anything. Now, if they'd waited until 2008 to execute this KGB-style hit, celebrating the...what...70 year anniversary? I mean, 70 years would be symbolic, right? Of something? I'm sure. You get my point?
Despite the silliness of all this conspiracy theory in the real world, though, in terms of entertainment marketing, Larsson's fascination with blackguard plotters paid off handsomely in providing the thematic and plot backdrop of his much read and film adapted novels. And, strange as it may seem to some of us, Larsson's brand of paranoia resonates just as well in America as in his native Sweden.
The plots and degeneracy of these blackguard extremists provide the fodder for super-girl sleuth Lisbeth Salander - she of the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and all buttressed by hacker skills that leave any bank or police department computer system naked before her will. Chummed up with her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist, evil has no chance. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe returning from the dead has been added to Lisbeth's impressive catalogue of super hero skills.
Okay, it is all a bit far-fetched. But whatever stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may ask of us, the protagonists and their virtuous mission makes for fun reading and viewing. And, hey, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
About the Author:
To follow developments in the Stieg Larsson posthumous empire, you need to follow Mickey Jhonny on the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo blog. Mickey's latest writing includes an insightful review of the Michael Apted's amazing 7 Up documentary series for Best Documentaries on Netflix -- you don't want to miss it!
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